


Winner Take All

by CypressSunn



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Shameless unrepentant smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CypressSunn/pseuds/CypressSunn
Summary: If the revelation of his after-hours fight matches left a certain someone with the impression that Eddie was too hot under the collar, easily instigated, unwilling to back down from a fight— Well, Eddie could prove him right and wrong all at the same time.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 21
Kudos: 361
Collections: 101 Prompts Meme





	Winner Take All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justwantobehere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwantobehere/gifts), [villainstatus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/villainstatus/gifts).



> There's really no defending this so I won't even try. The kitchen scene in 3x09 demanded a steamy follow up where Christopher just happened to not be at home. And if you must blame someone, blame [Nightlyponder](https://nightlyponder.tumblr.com/) and [Sndaen](https://sndaen.tumblr.com/).  
> 

**DISPATCHER:** 911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?

 **CALLER:** THERE'S... SOUNDS COMING FROM MY NEIGHBOR'S PLACE.

 **DISPATCHER:** WHAT KIND OF SOUNDS?

 **CALLER:** Y’KNOW... SOUNDS.

 **DISPATCHER:** MA'AM, IF YOU WANT TO CALL IN A NOISE COMPLAINT, YOU NEED YOU TO BE A BIT MORE SPECIFIC.

 **CALLER:** [PAUSE] LOOK SOMEONES EITHER BEING MURDERED OR GETTING RAILED WITHIN AN INCH OF THEIR LIFE OVER THERE! I THOUGHT I SHOULD CALL EITHER WAY IN CASE SOMEONE IS ACTUALLY DYING.

***

“I’d still take you,” proclaims Buck, wrapping his lips around the neck of his beer bottle. The pair of them are standing in Buck’s kitchen, both a couple drinks in as well as one heart-to-heart. Eddie would have been fine leaving it at that. He had missed winding down after a shift with only Buck for company. But Buck knows Eddie is watching him sip from the glass, that he can’t tear his eyes away. His cocksure façade secure in place, an invitation and provocation all wrapped together.

“You think so?” Eddie says because he can play nonchalant, too. Up until recently no one would have believed Buck could play it cooler than Eddie. It was the uniform he wore over his features; fixed, steadfast, self-possessed. Eddie rose to the occasion, Eddie did not blink. If the revelation of his after-hours fight matches left a certain someone with the impression that Eddie was too hot under the collar, easily instigated, unwilling to back down from a fight— Well, Eddie could prove him right and wrong all at the same time.

“Oh, I know,” Buck insists. Saunters closer, chest thrust out, fingers looped around his belt. Eddie makes a point of not staring, eyes level and looking anywhere but at the other man. Keeps his fingers fastened to the counter-top edge and does his damnedest to suppress a smile.

Buck does not let up. “You wanna go for the title?”

Eddie shakes his head to the side. He swallows the rest of his beer, takes his time doing it. Buck, who is standing too close, watches and waits, waits and watches. Eyes trained to Eddie and the slow bob of his Adam’s apple. Eddie can see his hair stand on end, a slip in his cocky veneer when he inhales a little too hard. Buck can dish out coy but he can’t take it as Eddie downs the last of the bottle, slow as you please— 

Buck flinches first.

“Okay, but you know I'm talking about sex, right?” He points out, afraid he had left too much open to interpretation.

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, Buck. I, uh, caught that part. You're not exactly subtle.”

“Good, because we’ve got… what? An hour before we have to pick up Chris from Carla’s?”

“Let me worry about the time.” Eddie takes both their beers in hand and leaves them on the opposite counter. “You picked a fight and now you gotta finish it.”

Grinning, Buck is already stripping off his grey weathered sweatshirt. How he manages to wear so many damn clothes in the west coast heat is beyond Eddie’s comprehension. Leaving layers over the tiling and marble tops and backs of chairs, Buck draws Eddie in closer and grabs his zipper. Without a word, Buck is on his knees, drawing him out and fisting Eddie's dick in a tight grip and working the length in and out of his mouth. It's his favorite way to get Eddie worked up. Loves the feel of Eddie hardening on his tongue; Buck’s told him so before between bouts of catching his breath.

Eddie drags Buck back up to his feet. He presses his body back against the counter and leans in over him. “We gotta take this to the bedroom,” Eddie reminds Buck between kisses.

“Says who?” Buck nips back with teeth.

Eddie runs his hands up Buck’s sides, knowing damn well the simple touch drives him crazy. It makes him malleable, too, if he’s not listening to reason. “Unless you’re keeping lube in your kitchen cabinets—”

Buck shivers, pulls at Eddie’s shirt hem and yanks it over his head. “Not a bad idea but, no.” Turning around, Buck pushes his back to Eddie’s body. Through Buck’s little black boxers Eddie can feel the evidence; a generous application of slick. “Already prepped.”

The realization burns through Eddie; Buck’s planned for this all night. He has to shake the tremble from his fingers to check that Buck prepared himself enough. Eddie tries to remember when he took his eyes off of Buck long enough. When he found the time to slip away and finger himself open in anticipation. It clear there’s more lube than stretching. Buck had been overzealous in his confidence that he'd get Eddie to fuck him. Not like it ever took much work. 

Fingering Buck open further earns him an impatient groan. “You stalling, Eddie? Or are you going to fuck me?”

Eddie doesn't take the bait. Instead, he kisses Buck along his spine with wet, mouth mouthed kisses. Keeps working; slowly but surely opening and opening Buck. Fingers sweep over just the right spot and Buck arches, gasping.

“Condom,” Eddie commands.

“We don’t—”

Eddie withdraws his fingers and that delicious pressure Buck is chasing as a wordless warning. Foregoing protection is a conversation for another time. Not now, after they’ve been apart for so long, now when they are finally putting the pieces back together. Getting the message, Buck scrambles over the counter with a frantic searching hand. He finds his pants hanging nearby over the side. From his back pocket, he produces the little foil packet in his wallet and squirms around to turn over, get level with Eddie’s dick and roll on the condom from tip to base.

“Happy?” Buck huffs when Eddie has him bent double over the counter-top again.

“Very much,” Eddie retorts.

“If you’re done taking your sweet time,” Buck continues, petulant and wound up, “maybe we could get on with the show? Or wait, do you have a guy you need to go beat up somewhere?”

“I’m gonna beat up something, alright,” Eddie chides. He gives Buck’s ass an affectionate squeeze before slowly, slowly sliding his sheathed cock home. The sound Buck makes is indescribable. Eddie drags his hips back at the same pace to hear it again.

“Eddie—” Bucks free hand flies back, trying to catch Eddie's hip, trying to urge him on, harder and faster. 

Not like Eddie needs encouragement. If he wanted to piledrive Buck into a shaking mess and leave him on the tile floor, he damn well could. Buck’s shameless need to please and to receive would relish it. But no; Eddie Diaz is a man of discipline, a student of slow careful consideration. He believed in delayed gratification even if Buck never saw the appeal.

Oh, and delay it he could.

Thrusting at his leisure, Eddie rocks in and out of the prone body before him. Deliberate and reveling in the tight tremble of his body. Buck is all taut, satin heat, a catch of perfect tightness around Eddie. It's easy to get lost in it, too engrossed in the building movement and the cresting graze of their bodies. The taste of his skin. The sounds Buck made—

Buck never kept a single thought to himself fully dressed. Undressed and in bed, or out of it, was no different. He was a trail of whispered vulgarities, imploring and praising, begging and admonishing. “I told you I could take you, Ed…”

Eddie snaps his hips once. Buck shudders with a jolt. “And you are, baby. You’re taking me so, so good.”

Buck shakes his head, neck bent to look back at Eddie. His face is hot, feverish red. Teeth barred when he quivers and rasps, “more… you gotta— I need more.”

“So greedy,” Eddie taunts. Nothing in his voice belies how close to the edge he is himself. His control flickers from his grasp and the need to push deeper, to ride out this erupting pleasure between them is almost overwhelming. But he keeps steady with his hands on Buck’s shoulders, fingertips pressing into the muscle there. Sweat beads down Buck’s back. Eddie can taste the salt of it.

“No, no, Eddie,” Buck’s breath hitches. “I need— I need—”

“I know what you need,” Eddie whispers into the shell of Buck’s ear. He could feel Buck’s pulse through the thin skin he found there. “And I know how bad you need it.” Needed Eddie to take him down, take him apart, take over and over and over. Needed Eddie to take the weight off, to take the need for words away, take the guilt and the distance and reduce it to nothing. Take Buck’s dick in his hand and seize his last rational thought and drag it out of reach.

“But do you know what I need, _querido_?”

Buck shook his head with his eyes squeezed shut.

“I need you to say, ‘ _uncle’._ ”

“What?!” Buck sputters, movement ceasing all at once. In his sex-clouded brain even he must remember where this started. A dare, a challenge. “No, not happening—”

Eddie expects as much. Buck was as stubborn as he was needy. But he had no tolerance for frustration, zero patience. He couldn’t hold out for long. Jerking their bodies back together, back into the tight fit they mold into so well, he slides his hand down Buck’s long-neglected cock and doesn’t move.

“You know what you have to say.”

Breathing harsh, Buck pulls back. Grumbles and growls something unintelligible, but certainly defiant.

“What was that?” Eddie asks, placing playful kisses over Buck’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” Buck feigns, not answering at first. “Sorry, I'm just falling asleep over here. Let me know when you're done screwing around—”

Oh, that does it. Thoughts of winning or losing or teasing evaporate from Eddie’s mind as he hones in Buck, Buck, Buck. Pushing and pounding, he takes him deep. Doesn’t let up when he has shoved Buck further up the counter and they risk losing their balance. Flailing and thrashing, both of them send a stack of dishes and metal pot, no a pan, clamoring to the ground. Something shatters and breaks. They barely notice. Buck’s knuckles are white as they grapple and steady against the counter and against the onslaught of Eddie. He’s pressing back with all he’s got to meet Eddie, roaring when Eddie hits the right spot again and again. Screaming when Eddie bites down on his shoulder and his clenches fist around Buck’s cock draws out his release.

God, Buck’s throat is going to be raw. Eddie’s going to enjoy hearing his wrecked voice in the morning.

“You good?” Eddie checks-in. Buck is slumped over the counter, not really moving. His limbs are mostly hanging and aside from the occasional muscle twitch, he doesn’t seem to be under his own power. He lets Eddie move around him, cleaning and repositioning him, but little else. “Buck?”

“Hm?”

Eddie waves four fingers in front of Buck’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Two,” Buck responds without even opening his eyes.

Eddie chuckles at his own handiwork. Fucked-out sleepy Buck is a special kind of reward. But a thunderous knock fills the house, interrupting their recuperative glow. All at once Eddie is very aware of the scene they’ve landed themselves in. Both of them stripped naked, save for Eddie’s unbuttoned pants they had never gotten around to removing. Surrounded by discarded clothes, shattered glass and dishes, spilled beer, a dented pan rolled off in a corner. The kitchen window is wide open behind them. Shit. Buck had been screaming.

The knock comes again, this time more incessant.

“Someone’s at the front door,” Buck says, obvious and oblivious all at once.

“I’ll get rid of them,” Eddie promises. He dresses as quickly as he can. Which is not fast enough because Buck mugs Eddie for his button-down, refusing to give it up. Eddie is more than a little afraid that if he hauls it back, he’s going to send Buck skidding to the floor. So he gives up and lets Buck pull the shirt on himself inside out without a care.

“Who’s there?” Buck calls when the knocking comes a third and final time.

“It’s the cops, Buck.” Eddie shushes, helping Buck back into his pants, one leg at a time. “Someone called the police.”

“Again? For what?”

Eddie shakes a few shards of glass from his undershirt over the sink. “My guess is all the screaming and banging.”

“What? Those sounds could be anything,” Buck insists emphatically.

“Yeah, no. Sorry, babe.” Grinning and assured that Buck is decent enough for prying eyes should the officers want to come inside and take a look, he presses one last quick kiss to Buck’s mouth. “Again Buck, you're not subtle.”

“I won though,” Buck shouts after Eddie from where he left him. Leaning against the back of a kitchen chair as Eddie rushes off to the front door running a mental tally of varying excuses and apologies. Buck’s triumphant high radiates off of him, blinding and warm and addictive. Eddie doesn't quite follow the logic of Buck’s victory, but he doesn’t argue either. If his choice is trading bloodied fist fights for nosy neighbors, late night police inspections, and Buck, smiling and content, wrapped up in sweat and Eddie’s shirt — well, he’s happy to take the loss.

**_fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Prompt #69: Subtle for my 101 shots. Written as a breather from Yuletide.  
> I swear next time I will write something with some semblance of a plot.  
> ***  
> tumblr: cypresssunn.tumblr.com


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